Iset is not sure who is more surprised, she or Weir. She quietly admires him, an amused look on her face. The stallion looks for all the world like an errant child.
"Oh! Weir, I'm so sorry. Were you busy? I didn't mean to disturb you…"
Shame and embarrassment suddenly flood the black mare's features. Her voice trails off, and she dips her head awkwardly. She does not know what to say. Her tongue feels thick in her mouth.
The reddish sheen of his coat reminded her of their child. She breathes deeply. After a moment, she finds that that thought does not make her feel like sinking into the earth. She feels the pain sharply, but not as if it will kill her. For today, that is enough. Relieved, the mare lifts her head, and meets the eyes of the stallion.
She instantly feels a pang of guilt. They have seen little of each other over the winter. She had been so wrapped up in her grief that she forgot that her sorrow was a shared one. Weir must have suffered greatly. Iset remembered the day she had told him their son had died. Weir had been crushed and silent, and Iset hadn't known what else to say.
“Weir... how are you today? I know you're not okay. Neither of us is, really, but you know you have me, right? You don't have to bear the pain alone.”
Iset moved closer, nuzzling his neck with her nose, dark against light. She took comfort in his warmth just as she sought to give him comfort with her presence.
“I'm sorry I haven't been around. I've been selfish. This pain is not just mine. Please forgive me, Weir. I promise I'll be here.”
Iset isn't sure where to go from here, but she knows that she doesn't want to lose her dear friend.